


The Fiancée

by Eostre



Series: The Mysterious Case of The Fiancée [1]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: Awkward Romance, Confusion, Crime Fighting, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, OOC Sherlock, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2539427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eostre/pseuds/Eostre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when John returns to 221B after his daughter was born and sees that he was replaced? And with a woman? Who is she? This is a bit of a life-still thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fiancée

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is. Any form of feedback is appreciated. I seriously want to know what people think of this thing my brain decided to do.

John Watson entered the door of 221B and went up the stairs, greeting Mrs. Hudson in his wake. She seemed like she had wanted to say something but instead announced that she will bring tea up in a bit. He smiled to himself, happy that he finally got to return to his crazy detective life for a bit. It has been over a month since his daughter was born and almost two weeks since he visited Sherlock and they solved any case together. 

‘It’s good to be back, to do this.’ He flexed his fingers as he twisted the knob and entered Sherlock’s apartment. He breathed in when he saw his old chair in its place, its back facing the door. Everything seemed so familiar, although Sherlock was nowhere in sight. 

“Sh-“ he was about to call when he noticed a pair of black-clad legs dangling over the arms of his chair.  
“Ah, hello, John. Sherlock is ‘sciencing’ in the kitchen. Please do come in. I hope you don’t mind that I have monopolized your chair. It’s very comfortable by the way.” A velvety feminine voice spoke from his chair and he had to do a double take, blink a couple of times, look around the room to make sure he wasn’t hearing voices.  
“E-excuse me? Who are you?” he heard a small sigh and some ruffling of clothes before a mop of ginger hair poked from the back of his chair. 

“Hi.” She stretched her hand over the chair, in his direction. “I’m Jazz. Nice to meet you.” John skeptically shook her hand, watching her suspiciously. He couldn’t help but observe her attire which consisted of a purple shirt he knew all too well as belonging to his best friend and a pair of black thigh highs.  
He immediately averted his gaze from the skimpy outfit the woman was wearing. he wondered. He hasn’t been there in two weeks. How much could things have changed? Was she just another ‘Janine’? Would he have to be a gentleman and explain the woman that Sherlock was just using her to gather information?

His train thought was cut off by Sherlock walking into the room, wearing big gloves and looking a bit like a mad scientist. 

“Oh, hello, John. It’s been a while. How is my niece?” at that, the doctor winced involuntarily, observing the familiarity which both Sherlock and the woman used as they spoke to him. What was he missing?

“She’s just fine. Thank you for asking. Mary thought I needed a break and I decided to drop by. How’s life with you?” he questioned the man, his head tilting only the slightest bit towards the woman who had returned to her phone, curled up on his beloved chair. 

“Quite alright. Thank you for asking. Would you like to join me to the kitchen?” the dark-haired man asked as he spun on his heels and made his way to the room he had just walked out of. John followed suit, apologizing to the woman for leaving her alone.

“It’s quite alright, John. I know you’re going to talk about me.” She waved her hand, not lifting her gaze from the phone. She then chuckled, as if seeing his shocked expression when he reached the counter. Sherlock was doing something to a head. A human head. 

He had learned to stop asking questions about Sherlock’s experiments. Instead he tilted his head towards the living room once again, silently questioning his friend about the woman in his chair. 

“She is Jade.” “JAZZ!” came the screaming voice of the female as she corrected him. Sherlock ignored her and continued. “Our case, so to speak. She had been contacted by someone using Moriarty’s number. “ Sherlock explained while putting on his gloves once again and continuing with his experiment. 

“Yes, alright. But why is she sitting in my chair, half naked?” John sounded a bit exasperated. 

“She is not naked. She is wearing my shirt. And underwear.” Although John didn’t want to believe it, he could see Sherlock do the weird pout thing he did when something was bothering him. 

“I can’t believe this! You are bothered by the fact that she is wearing underwear?! Why did I leave the house today?” he threw his hands in the air when he saw Sherlock smirk at his remark. 

"Don't be silly, John. I am merely bothered by the fact that she is wearing my shirt when she has clothes of her own here." Sherlock continued pouring something onto the skin of the head and a sickening smell of burned flesh filled the room. All the while, a quirky smirk was still present on his features. 

"You're lying." John stated before moving to open the window. 

"He is." the woman joined them, clutching a small blanket to her chest in an attempt to hide the fact that the shirt wasn't properly buttoned, although John noticed anyway. 

"I'll go change since it bothers you so much." She winked then placed a mug in the sink and turned on her heels, heading to Sherlock's bedroom. 

Now that she was gone, John folded his arms and started beating his foot to the floor, waiting for an explanation. 

"Is she a... Uhm. Prostitute?" the question earned him a questioning look from his friend. 

"Why would I bring a prostitute here? Is that how high you think of me, dear John?" the shorter male was a bit at a loss. That did seem the only plausible explanation. 

Before he could answer, though, the ginger made her way into this kitchen, now properly dressed in a wavy black skirt, a pastel pink oversized sweater, the same thigh highs as before and bunny slippers. 

John was tempted to ask how old she was, because of the childish way she dressed, but he stopped, his mouth hanging open when she presented him with her delicate hand, a beautiful silver ring with an intricate braiding of diamonds adorning her finger. 

"What?" was the only think that left his mouth. At the same time, a small whine left Sherlock's lips. 

"Oh, shut up, Sherlock. You know you could have asked me to give it back thousands of times so far. Admit it, you like seeing me wear it." a small smile played on her lips as Sherlock just 'Hmpf'd her and continued with his little experiment, the smell of burned flesh almost gone.

“Married?!” John chocked out looking from the ring to Sherlock, to Jazz and then back to the ring. They both shook their heads.

“Engaged then?” he looked the female up and down, wondering how old she really was, trying to understand when could have this happened. This time, she nodded but Sherlock shook his head.

“What?” the short male questioned once again before taking his head in his hands and walking out of the kitchen, to his chair, leaving the awkward couple alone. 

“You know what, Sherlock?” the small female muttered under her breath as she watched said male put the human head in a container inside the fridge. He paid her no mind and took his gloves off and threw them in a garbage can in the cupboard. He circled around her and grabbed something from another cupboard before returning to the sink. 

“Okay then.” She took a deep breath, took off the ring and placed it on the counter, next to the sink. “If you’re not going to ask for it I might as well give it back myself.”

She then turned on her heels and stormed to the bedroom, almost entering Sherlock’s but turning at the last second to enter John’s old bedroom, where she initially moved into. 

John was about to go and see what happened when Mrs. Hudson finally came in with the tea. She placed the cups for the two males on the small table and asked where Jazz was, wanting to bring hers too. 

“She’s in my old room.” John answered, sipping the liquid, reminiscing the moments when they would drink tea while on a case, or well, he would. 

“What? They don’t share the same room anymore?” the elderly woman asked, a bit surprised since she got used to seeing the two interacting with one another while John was taking care of his newborn.

“They did?” Mrs. Hudson just nodded, heading for the bedroom with Jazz’s cup of tea in hand. She had several attempts at making the woman inside open the door before she gave up and set her cup on the table and left soon after. 

John was halfway through his cup of tea when Sherlock finally emerged from the kitchen, his left hand a fist. He completely ignored the shorter male who was trying to explain that Jazz has been hiding in the bedroom ever since she left the kitchen and just made his way into said room, using the spare key. A pillow flew out of the room a few seconds after Sherlock opened the door and then, silence.

Meanwhile inside, Jade had been sitting on the bed, reading away on her phone, trying to block out the feeling of emptiness on her finger. She ignored Sherlock when he got in, throwing a pillow at him when he started talking. Then, she turned on her side, back facing the man, continuing with the book. 

A few moments passed and she couldn’t focus on the words, but she kept reading, hoping Sherlock would get bored of watching her and just leave. To her luck, the bed sank in and a warm hand touched her hip.

“Jade…” he whispered. “I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but we’re both aware that you’ve been reading the same paragraph for the 17th time now. And you’re absentmindedly touching the place where your ring is supposed to be.” He squeezed her hip the slightest bit, feeling weird to be doing such a thing but at the same time knowing it was necessary with her.

“Fuck off. No ring is supposed to be on my finger, according to you. So stop trying.” She pushed him off with her backside, trying to get him off the bed, but to no avail. He simply slapped her phone out of her hands, took her left hand and forced her fingers open, placing the ring where it used to be. 

“Why are you doing this, Sherlock?” she had turned on her back, watching him through half-closed eyes, fighting back the tears. Rare were the moments when she thought she’d see Sherlock do something like this, step on his pride and principles to set something right. 

“It’s been eight years. I gave you that ring for a reason and made a promise I will never break.” He inhaled deeply before leaning down to place a small kiss to the tip of her nose. 

Not a moment later she started laughing, the tears she had contained running down her cheeks. Sherlock stood up again, looking down at her, confused.

“What amuses you?” he quirked a brow and looked half-confused, half-amused as she kept laughing while getting up, her cheery mood finally returning.

“You looked like you were in so much pain. Trying to say those things. And it’s like I was going to kill you if you didn’t kiss my nose. It was hilarious.” A small smile graced his features too right before John coughed from the door. 

“Just what.” The question made both the female and his best friend smile brightly.

“We have been engaged for 8 years now.” Sherlock finally admitted and the woman next to him just inched a bit closer, enough to brush her hand over his fingers, but not really grab onto his hand, knowing that the man didn’t like it. 

To hers and John’s surprise, Sherlock actually leaned closer just a tad, taking a moment to look fondly at the short woman standing next to him.

“Besides, these little dramatic outbursts are usual for us. It is her way of trying to make me show emotion.” He cleared his throat before turning his gaze to his best friend. “As you have already seen, it is working quite well.”

A moment’s pause and then John returned to his chair once again, followed by the detective and his, apparently, fiancée, as they all settled into their respective chairs, Jazz sitting on the arm of Sherlock’s. 

“Sherlock. Engaged. Really?” was all he could muster at the point, still hoping there was a more logical explanation to all of these weird stories. 

“Yes, before I met you. She tricked me into popping the question.” By now, the world’s only consulting detective had already taken his thinking pose, deducing God knew what as he answered John’s questions. 

“Someone tricked you?” the tone John has used bothered him. Before he could open his mouth to spit a nasty comeback, his fiancée beat him to it.

“Not at all. It was just another one of my attempts at proving Sherlock that he does have a heart and he feels human emotions and all that nonsense that he claims to have under control. And he ended up doing this.” She raised her hand and waved it around a bit, showing off the delicate ring. 

“So you proposed because you were being pressured? This is not a real engagement? Why didn’t you break it off then? Why did you return the ring earlier?” the blogger asked, trying to make some sense of what he had just heard, thinking, yet again that the woman was just a puppet. “Does she have any connection to Moriarty? Did he even exist eight years ago?”

The following events only made John Watson fall deeper into his confusion. Sherlock, the man who utterly sucked at reading the atmosphere, paused his train of thought and moved to look at the woman’s face, eyes falling onto the way her lips formed into a pout, her eyes fell to the old carpet and her brows furrowed in frustration. What was even more shocking was the fact that the same man who had no problem in humiliating anybody in less than 0.3 seconds actually took her smaller hand into his, squeezing it slightly.

“Shut up, John. Look at her. Does this look like a game to you?” Sherlock spoke as he gripped her hand a little tighter, knowing that all she wanted to do at that moment was to go away and hide. “Do you really think I would have held onto an engagement for over eight years if it was just another case?” carefully, he let go of her hand, waiting for a moment to listen to John’s reaction.

“But you said… that you can’t love? And that she’s our case?” the blond male sitting cross them asked just as Sherlock moved his hand on the small woman’s waist, gently pulling her closer to him. With a surprised yelp, she was shifted atop his knees, the same hand from earlier pulling her to her fiance’s chest. 

She felt embarrassed. It was the first time in so long when Sherlock actually showed any form of affection towards her, in front of somebody (besides Mycroft, whom he tries to piss off at all times by being all too touchy). A small blush made its way on her cheeks as she noticed the way John is watching them. 

On the other hand, John felt like making the discovery of the century and not understanding its meaning. Sherlock was hugging a woman to his chest and he didn’t seem to be acting or pretending to be cheerful and in love like he did when he was with Janine. Could it be that his friend wasn’t as tough as he claimed to be? As ‘different’? He calmly awaited the answers to his questions as he tried to get used to the sight in front of him, feeling confused yet at ease because maybe, just maybe now he wouldn’t have to worry about Sherlock doing something stupid all the time, when he wasn’t present.

 

“I said that I do not love. Because it renders you weak. It creates the greatest weakness in one’s life. And, unfortunately for us, she happens to be my weakness.” Although silent up until that moment, John could hear a soft whimper coming from the woman cuddled against Sherlock’s chest. 

“She is our case because Moriarty has found out about her. The text she received, ‘And all you loved, you loved alone.’, a Poe quote, which she interpreted as a threat to my life, was actually a trap, designed to kill her when she attempted to see if I was alright. A well placed bomb, took me a couple of seconds to figure it, would have ended her life. Luckily, she decided to call me first, a randomer’s phone. Moriarty didn’t seem to take into account the fact that she’s dealt with such situations before.” Sherlock explained while seemingly completely ignoring the female on his lap. 

 

At the same time, a small giggle escaped said female’s lips, catching the attention of both males, confused looks on their faces.

“Sorry. Just, the fact that you have so much trust in me makes me laugh. Before calling you I almost had a panic attack. It took me two minutes to figure out what I was supposed to do.”

“Why, yes, but in the end you did the right thing and now you are here with me, alive.” Sherlock seemed to praise her, although he did little to show her any form of affection. 

“Anyway, John, it is obvious that someone is after us. Although Moriarty is out of the picture, his plans are continued by his followers. They’re slow and weak, but a compact group. I have to take them down soon. Mycroft has agents watching us as well as your apartment, although I am sure Mary would be able to tell if any of you was being followed. The point is, be careful, I’m not capable of being in more places at the same time to make sure everyone is alright.” 

John sat back in his chair, taking in what he had just found out. His family was in danger and at the same time under the protection of the Secret Services. And he knew nothing of that. But he trusted Sherlock and decided to move on to more pressing matters. 

“So… Are you going to get married?” he finally questioned, earning himself an angry look from Sherlock and an amused one from the female.

“Don’t be silly.” She answered, only to have her reply continued by Sherlock. 

“She is already a great weakness as she is, making the relationship official would put a permanent target on her.” She nodded.

“We first have to get rid of Moriarty.”


End file.
